


Critical Research

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney does better with facts and numbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Critical Research

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #205 "research"

Rodney was nearly asleep when John said “Crap, I was supposed to send Lorne an e-mail about that thing,” and slid out of bed.

“Sheppard?” Rodney mumbled.

“Can I borrow your laptop quick?” John asked, pulling on a t-shirt with his boxers. “All the stuff is on the public server, and I don’t want to have to go all the way back to my room.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Rodney, because he was trying to _sleep_ , then sat bolt upright when John reached for the closed laptop on his dresser rather than the one running basic preliminary simulations on his desk. “No, not—”

But John had already popped open the lid, and typed in Rodney’s password. The screen came up, and he froze. “What…?”

Rodney knew exactly what John had found, because he’d been working on it when John had come to remind him it was dinnertime. He should have at least closed the program, hidden the file away somewhere on his hard drive, especially since John knew all of his passwords, but he’d been in a hurry and he hadn’t really expected them to come back to his quarters, like they had the night before.

“This is…” John said, still staring at the laptop screen.

Rodney took a long breath and got out of bed, pulling on his own t-shirt.

What John had found was a spreadsheet, one Rodney had begun almost immediately after the third time John had kissed him (because one kiss had been nice, and two had been better, but three was enough to be scientifically plotted) and he used it to keep track of every romantic and/or sexual encounter. The spreadsheet measured duration, enjoyability, frequency and probability, among other factors. It was highly biased, of course, but this was hardly even science, and Rodney didn’t feel the need to hold himself to his usual standards.

Not that there wasn’t some science to it. He had made one for each person he’d dated, started from scratch every time. Over the years, Rodney had developed a few predictive algorithms that had allowed him to stay on more stable emotional footing in his relationships. At least, for a little while.

Rodney tried to be amused at the irony that the one tool he needed to maintain a decent relationship was, all too often, the thing that ended it. Inevitably, he would let something slip about the spreadsheet’s existence, and equally inevitably, the argument that followed would lead to Rodney being single. Again.

A few of his partners had objected to such personal data being recorded— there were no names, Rodney argued, no pictures or identifiable information— but most had seemed more angry that he needed facts and data, instead of just _feeling things out_ and _going with the flow_. Even when he dated other scientists, they all held the inexplicable belief that relationships just went along, to succeed or fail without any real analysis.

“This…” John said again, snapping Rodney’s thoughts back to the present. “You must have been working on this for a while.”

“I— Yes, I have,” said Rodney. He’d given up trying to explain it, but John deserved honesty, at least. “It helps me keep track. Of what you like.”

John set the laptop, still open to the spreadsheet, carefully onto the desk. “How long would it take you to make another one?”

Rodney blinked. “Another one?”

“Yeah.” John finally looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “To keep track of what _you_ like.”

“You’re not upset about the spreadsheet? You don’t think it’s invasive, or creepy, or unromantic?”

“I think it’s _you_ , McKay,” John laughed. “You weren’t going to tell me about it until you’d worked it out, were you? Until you knew _exactly_ how to get me all worked up?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you at all,” Rodney admitted. “I’ve made them for a few, well, exes now, and they all thought it was…”

“Invasive, creepy and unromantic?” John suggested.

Rodney huffed out a laugh. “Yeah.”

John took a step closer, catching the hem of Rodney’s t-shirt with one hand and sliding the other, barely touching, up Rodney’s arm. “You know,” he said, “that spreadsheet looks like it was designed to hold a lot more data than you’ve got in there now. What do you say we work on gathering some?”

“Won’t that mess up the data for _your_ spreadsheet?” Rodney asked, only half teasing.

“I’m willing to repeat the experiments if you are,” John murmured against Rodney’s lips.

Rodney leaned in to kiss him properly, long and hard. “We may have to expand the scope of our project,” he said, when they broke for air. “Account for _all_ the variables.”

John grinned. “Okay. Wanna be my lab partner, McKay?”

Rodney laughed, and kissed him again.

THE END


End file.
